


Life, Death, and the Distance Between

by homesickghosts



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Dan Howell having a crisis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non descriptive sex, Suicide mention, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 18:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6090790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homesickghosts/pseuds/homesickghosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan Howell is very sad and contemplates life, death, and everything between. Phil is there to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life, Death, and the Distance Between

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. I wrote this because I was sad. And I love making Dan suffer.

He knew it was happening again. There was an itching under his tongue, in his wrists, that he couldn’t get rid of. It sat there after it was mentioned, like a nervous tick. His mind kept twitching back to it.

He wears all black all the time, and he likes to joke that it’s because he’s harnessing the sun’s powers for his own personal gain, but it’s not. Everything is dull. He dresses in monochrome because that’s how he feels. Colors don’t make sense. And that’s only on the days he can manage to get dressed. Most days, he can’t get out of bed, instead he spends his day lounging in the same thing he’s worn for three days straight, absorbed in the depths of the internet, only getting up to pee and eating when Phil reminds him that he has to to live. He debates not doing so.

On the bad days, Phil’s there to comfort him. Until Dan pushes him away. Can’t take the sympathy, his best friend, his love is giving him. He wants to be alone, to dwell in his sadness and crisis.

On the good days, Phil’s still there of course, but Dan gets out of bed. He gets up, does some laundry, showers maybe. He goes outside and down to the coffee shop around the corner, and then comes back. He slips off his shoes, crawls back in bed, and stays there for three more days.

It’s become a routine, the good days and the bad days. They cycle through, but the bad days have been more recent, more prominent. Dan doesn’t know how Phil hasn’t gotten sick of him yet.

And Phil asks him: what’s wrong this time? But Dan can’t say: what’s the point of you loving me? We all die alone. Our existence doesn’t matter. What’s the point of being on this earth? The only thing that’s keeping me here is you.

So Dan says nothing, instead curls under Phil’s arm and presses his face into Phil’s neck. Phil is safe. Phil is alive. Phil is real. Phil is constant, and here Dan can breathe.

Dan breathes Phil in until they fall asleep, tangled together on the couch. He wakes up around three and remembers the saying that there’s probably someone watching him. He remains stock still against Phil, clinging to him, because Phil is safe, Phil is constant.

He lays awake for hours.

Phil wants to comfort him, but nothing he does helps. Dan stares blankly into the distance, contemplating life and death and the distance between. Phil’s hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him down here.

He cries, from time to time. Often late at night, when the only thing there is his laptop to keep him warm, to let him know there’s something there. His eyes burn with sleep, but that’s the one thing he can’t achieve.   
He thinks a lot about why he’s alive, what the point of it all is, why he was put on earth, what the meaning of life is, but most of all, he contemplates how he knows he’s real.

Phil says, “are you alright?” and sits down next to Dan on their kitchen floor.

“Is anything real?” Dan asks, he barely looks up at Phil, too busy focusing on the floor in front of him. His eyes are hazed purple. He hasn’t blinked in what feels like days. His throat is dry and itchy. The last time he ate was two days ago’s breakfast. Phil hasn’t reminded him.

Dan doesn’t want to anyways. Killing himself slowly at least gives him the chance to find himself a reason to live.

Dan looks up at Phil suddenly and says, “distract me” so Phil does, the best way how.

They fuck on the dirty kitchen floor, Phil leaves scratches down Dan’s back and Dan feels alive, at least for a minute.

Dan sleeps for 20 hours. Phil spends his time pacing back and forthing, worrying. He wants to check on him, but he doesn’t want to wake Dan up. So he checks in, makes sure that Dan is in fact, sleeping, and hadn’t taken something. Dan is still breathing yet Phil worries.

When Dan wakes up, Phil has just opened Dan’s door and he says “oh! you’re awake!” and Dan looks at him for a moment before closing his eyes and crying. He sobs softly into his pillow for two hours.

Phil makes and edits a video while Dan picks and scratches. He doesn’t mean to, it just happened, a mind numbing reaction. It stopped him though. Dan wears a long sleeve shirt for three days. Day four, Phil makes him get up and shower, but Dan sits down in the bath, letting the water pound on his back with his knees up to his chest. He rests his head on his knees and listens to the sound of the water hitting the bottom of the bath, the shower curtain, the fan whirring, his own breathing.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in there but Phil knocks on the door, Dan doesn’t reply because his voice won’t work. His arms won’t work. Nothing works and life is pointless.

He doesn’t say it outloud but he wants to die. And he starts sobbing, sitting in the bathtub with the water rushing all around him. Everything is too much and pointless. He can’t move, he can’t breathe he’s crying so hard. He can’t see.

And Phil comes in because Dan didn’t lock the door. He didn’t trust himself enough to.

“Fuck, Dan, what happened baby?” Phil asks, but Dan can’t look up, he can’t move, he just keeps sobbing, each inhale shakes his body. Phil climbs in, completely clothed, and pulls Dan too. Dan cries, curled up in a naked ball, on Phil’s lap. Phil rubs his back and murmurs to him that it’ll be okay, that it’ll get better.

Dan can’t crush him, can’t make Phil feel the same way he is by saying, I don’t want it to get better, I want to die. So he doesn’t say it, he just keeps crying and shaking and the water’s cold. Phil’s completely soaked head to toe. He’s in wet soggy clothes but he doesn’t care. He just keeps rubbing Dan’s back.

But Dan can’t take it anymore, and he whispers “I want to die” but it’s not enough. He’s still sobbing while sitting in the bathtub with cold water pouring down around him. So he says it louder, an “I want to die” muffled into Phil’s wet lap. And Dan is still crying, he’s shaking, from the cold, from not being able to breathe, and he yells it, choked, and in between sobs, “I want to die!” and Phil hesitates. Phil’s hand stops rubbing slow circles on Dan’s back and Dan cries harder.

“No, shhh baby, you don’t want to die, you just want things to get better,” Phil says. Dan looks up then. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s shivering, there’s snot all over his face.

“But what if it doesn’t get better?” he croaks. It hurts to talk. Every other breath is a sob. Phil feels terrible because he doesn’t know how to help. He can’t kiss Dan on the forehead and make everything magically better. No matter how badly he wants to. 

So Phil leans forward and finally turns off the water which he should have done before he even got in and he stands up, guiding Dan out of the tub and into a towel. Both of them drip on the floor, leaving puddles but neither care because Dan’s still brokenly sobbing and Phil’s trying his best to comfort him.

He guides Dan back to his own room because Dan’s reeks of sadness and weeks of not showering. Dan lays down, still shaking, but no longer sobbing. Phil drips on the carpet and he shrugs out of his wet clothes, crawls in and curls around Dan.

Phil holds Dan the best he can. They’re face to face, foreheads resting against each other, and Phil says, “It’ll get better, I promise. I’m here for you. Talk to me baby, anything you want.” But Dan just shakes his head, continues shivering, so Phil talks to fill the empty space. He talks to distract Dan, to calm him down. He tells stories, making them up as he goes. He tells about two princes who fell in love on accident and how one got hurt and the other took care of him. He talks about a talking frog. He talks until his voice is hoarse and Dan’s no longer shaking.

Dan wants to sleep but he can’t. He’s exhausted but everything is wrong. How can he sleep when everything is wrong and bad? So he doesn’t. He lets Phil hold him and soothe him even though everything inside of him is turning and spin cycle.

How could anyone love someone like him?

Phil’s eyes are dropping because it’s nearing four in the morning, but Dan is wide awake. Both of them are naked, but they’re dry. Phil keeps blinking, the seconds between each getting longer and longer and eventually his eyes close. Dan can’t sleep.

He’s too busy thinking about life and death and what it means to be alive. He’s too busy thinking about how what they have is more than fucking, is more than friends with benefits. He’s too busy thinking about how bringing it up will destroy everything.

Phil’s asleep but Dan still whispers, “I’m in love with you.” He’s so tired and everything has stopped. He want’s to sleep but he’s stuck. He’s stuck on the I love you. It’s twirling around, tumbling, over and over and over. It’s caught in his throat.

“I love you,” he coughs out. But it’s still stuck. “I love you,” he says again, louder, too loud because Phil stirs in his arms. They’re tangled together. Best friends don’t do this. “Phillip Lester, I am in love with every single piece of you and it’s terrible. I’m going to fuck everything up, but hey, that’s what I’m good at. I love you, Phil.” And it wasn’t whispering because Phil blinks awake, hums under his breath and Dan’s staring him full on.

Phil blinks, once, twice, rubs his eyes. “Did you say something, Dan?” Dan shakes his head and Phil nods, sleepily. “Get some sleep baby,” he mumbles before once more falling asleep.

Dan sleeps.


End file.
